


The Price of Victory

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Jane takes matters into her own hands, and pays the ultimate price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Victory

**Author's Note:**

> For the trope_bingo square 'deathfic'. 
> 
> I don't remember where I read it, but the inspiration for this fic was a remark that in the scene with the 'Do I have the right?' speech, Sarah never seems to consider overruling the Doctor and destroying the Daleks herself.

"But if I kill them," the Doctor said, glancing from one wire to the other, "wipe out a whole intelligent lifeform, then I become like them. I'd be no better than the Daleks." 

"Think of all—" Sarah began, and broke off. "No. Doctor, if you're not going to do it, I will." 

"What?" The Doctor turned to her. "Sarah, you don't mean—" 

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Sarah snatched the wires from his hand. Before anyone could stop her, she pressed one to the other. 

The bunker shook, knocking the Doctor and both his companions to the ground. A deafening roar echoed around them. White light flared behind the incubator room door; the window shattered outward, showering them with glass fragments. 

Harry staggered to his feet, shaking pieces of glass from his hair. Smoke was billowing through the broken panel, making his eyes water. 

"Doctor?" he called. His voice sounded faint; he swallowed, and felt his ears pop. "Sarah?" 

"Down here," the Doctor's voice said grimly. 

As the smoke cleared, Harry saw the Doctor bending over a recumbent, motionless figure. At the sight his heart gave a terrified leap; he hurried over. Sarah's face still bore a look of triumph, but her motionless eyes plainly would never see anything again. Mechanically, Harry felt for a pulse in her wrist, then her neck, confirming what he already knew. A flying shard of glass had lodged in her forehead; another had punctured her carotid artery. Her commandeered uniform was already saturated with blood. 

"It must have been quick," he said. "She wouldn't have known." 

The Doctor didn't seem to notice that he'd spoken. "Oh, Sarah," he said, patting her cheek. "My Sarah Jane." 

"Doctor!" It was Gharman, hurrying round the corner. "Doctor, I've been looking..." 

He tailed off at the sight of the tableau that met his eyes. 

"Is she?" he asked. 

"Dead," the Doctor replied, rising to his full height. "Did you say you were looking for me?" 

"Yes. Davros has agreed to our terms. All he's asked is that he be allowed to address a meeting of all the Elite. To put his case." 

"Then we need to be present," the Doctor said. "Harry, come with me." 

Harry was still kneeling beside what he couldn't yet think of as Sarah's corpse. "Doctor, we can't just leave her here." 

"Harry." The Doctor hauled him to his feet. "Sarah gave her life to ensure the Daleks were never created. We can't reverse her death, but we need to make sure it wasn't meaningless. We need to destroy the operational Daleks and stop any possibility of Davros making more." 

"Sometimes you seem so..." 

The Doctor fixed his eyes on Harry's. "Inhuman?" 

"Oh. I see." 

"You're angry, Harry. It's only natural. But don't lash out: you need to aim your anger at those who deserve it. Now come with us." 

The Doctor turned on his heel and walked away. Harry hastened after him, casting one last look at the motionless figure lying in the corridor. "We'll come back for you, old girl," he muttered. 

⁂

"If any one of you would destroy everything that we have ever achieved," Davros said, "then here is a destruct button. Press it and you will destroy this bunker and everything in it. Only this room will remain." 

"Do you think he means it?" Harry whispered to Gharman. 

"The bunker is wired with demolition charges — a last-ditch defence if the Thals ever managed to break in," Gharman replied. "But whether that button would actually set them off..." 

The Doctor rose to his feet. "I think it's time we found out." 

He strode across the hall. Davros broke off from his speech. 

"Doctor," he said. "You have nothing to say here. This is Elite business. It is we who must decide our future, not you." Seeing that his words were having no effect, he gestured to his second-in-command. "Nyder: deal with him." 

Nyder drew a pistol, but before he could do anything more, Harry was on him, fighting like a man possessed. Harry's hands closed around the pistol, and for endless seconds the gun wavered this way and that, then slowly swung back. The eyes of the Elite were fixed on the desperate struggle, but the Doctor wasn't so easily distracted. 

"Now what are you doing?" he asked, catching Davros's hand as he reached for a switch on his chair. "Not trying to make any last-minute alterations to the electorate, I hope?" 

"Let go of me!" Davros hissed. 

"No, Davros. Not this time. You should have listened to me when you had the chance. It's far too late for—" 

He was cut off by the echoing detonation of a gunshot. Still keeping a tight hold of Davros's wrist, the Doctor glanced over to see Nyder lying on the ground, a pool of blood spreading around his body. Harry, his face grim, was standing over the corpse. A couple of Elite members stepped forward, but stopped as Harry swung the pistol in their direction. 

"Now, let's see, shall we?" the Doctor said. Still gripping Davros's hand by the wrist, he forced it down onto the destruct button. 

This time, the explosion wasn't a single thunderclap, but a long, continuous roar. The chamber shuddered, rocking this way and that. The overhead lights flickered, and went out, leaving only dim emergency lamps. Groups of scientists ran to one door or another, trying vainly to shift them. 

"I see that I convinced you," Davros said softly, as the echoes of the explosion died away. "Like me, you realised that different races cannot coexist. For your race to survive, mine had to die." 

Before the Doctor or Harry could answer, one of the doors was forced open. Bettan, flanked by a couple of Thals, stepped in. All three had their weapons drawn. 

"Doctor!" she exclaimed. "What happened?" 

"Our mission is over," the Doctor said. "Well, nearly. The Daleks are destroyed, at any rate. I think you'd better evacuate these people. There's nothing for them here, now." 

"There's nothing much for them out there," Bettan said. "What about you?" 

"Oh, we won't detain you for long. But I don't think we're quite finished here." The Doctor crouched down beside Davros's chair. "The Daleks are all destroyed. Mutants, casings, weapons, that tape from your little interrogation session — all gone. But the Universe isn't safe while they still live in your mind." 

He reached for the switch that controlled Davros's life support system. 

"So you will kill me in cold blood," Davros said, his glowing blue eye holding the Doctor's. "One more step on the same path I took. I will take what comfort I can from the knowledge that you adopted my philosophy so completely. One day, Doctor, you too will build war machines of your own, to wipe out life wherever and whenever it appears, in case it threatens you." 

The Doctor shook his head. "I'm cutting out a cancer from the Universe. You would destroy the Universe and leave only the cancer." 

"Then look me in the eye," Davros whispered. "And end my life." 

The Doctor reached for the switch. Before his hand closed over it, a gunshot rang out, and Davros collapsed forward, blood oozing from his tunic. Alarms in the base of his chair began to sound; his body still twitched as the chair's mechanisms tried to maintain a ghastly parody of life. 

"I did look him in the eye," Harry said. He let the gun fall from his hand. "But all I saw was Sarah." 

The Doctor flicked the switch. Davros's body ceased to twitch; the blue light in his eye faded. "The last shot of the Thousand Year War," he said. "What a way to end it all." 

⁂

Together, the Doctor, Harry and Bettan left the ruined chamber, emerging into the centre of a new crater. Ahead, the surviving Kaled scientists were stumbling across the shattered rock of the crater floor, escorted by armed Thals. 

"Sarah's buried deep," the Doctor said, surveying the devastation. "But she can rest easy now. The Daleks are gone forever. Thank you both for your help." 

"You're leaving now?" Bettan asked. 

"As I said, we've completed our mission. And there's nothing that could induce me to remain here a minute longer." He held out the Time Ring. "Harry, your hand." 

Harry took the Doctor's hand, and felt it pressed onto the Time Ring. The surface of Skaro faded away, replaced by dark, swirling fog. He could see nothing, but he could feel the pressure of the Doctor's hand on his. And gripping his other hand... 

_"Bettan?"_

_"I'm coming with you,"_ her voice replied, distorted and echoing in the unknown dimension through which they were travelling. _"There's precious little for me on Skaro, either."_ There was a pause. _"And you two need me."_

_"I don't need anyone!"_ the Doctor protested. 

_"You do, and so does Harry. You need someone to stop you."_

⁂

When the Doctor, Harry and Bettan had arrived back at UNIT, and the Brigadier had learned of Sarah's fate, he had ordered that a funeral would take place, with full military honours. In her Thal uniform, cleaned and starched to a perfection it had never enjoyed before, Bettan watched with a mixture of puzzlement and familiarity as the coffin — what, if anything, it contained, she knew not — was lowered into the ground, and a platoon discharged their rifles over the grave. 

"Doctor?" she said, looking up at him. He was wearing his normal coat and scarf, his only concession to the solemnity of the occasion being to remove his hat. 

"I'm fine, Bettan," he said. "Where's Harry?" 

"He isn't here." 

"Then go and find him. And look after him." 

"Are you quite sure?" 

He didn't move so much as a muscle. "Quite." 

Bettan found Harry in the first place she looked — his quarters in the barracks. Since their return from Skaro he'd spent all the time he could there, unwilling even to be in the same room as the TARDIS or the Doctor. The room itself would have seemed grim and sparsely furnished to a human of Harry's time, but in comparison to the way Bettan had lived on Skaro, it was unparallelled luxury. 

"Here you are," she said, noting the open bottle on the table and the glass in his right hand. 

"That's right." He set the glass down. "I couldn't go to that funeral thing. Load of nonsense. It's not even her they're burying." 

Bettan looked from him to the bottle. "Can I have some of that?" 

"Sorry. Where are my manners? Please, sit down." 

Since Harry was occupying the only chair, Bettan perched herself on the edge of the bed. 

Harry refilled the glass and handed it to her. "Afraid I haven't got another glass or anything," he said. "We'll have to share." 

"That doesn't matter." Bettan downed the drink in one gulp. The taste was unfamiliar to her, but it was certainly more palatable than the raw spirit she was used to. "What is it?" 

"Scotch." Harry took the empty glass back. "Do you like it?" 

"It's... sophisticated. I think. Like everything on Earth." 

"Everything?" 

She nodded. "Compared to Skaro, yes. I'm sure by your standards we lived like animals." 

"It must have been dreadful for you." 

She shook her head. "I didn't know any better. Anyway, I was one of the lucky ones." 

"Yes." Harry poured out another measure of whisky, and took a sip from it. "You got out alive." 

"So did you." 

"I keep wishing I hadn't, you know." Harry drained the glass and, seemingly without conscious thought, set about refilling it. "If I'd spotted what Sarah was doing in time, I could have pulled her back. Put myself in the way, somehow." 

"I know how you're feeling." Bettan took the glass from his hand and drained it, a little more slowly than the first time. "You're not the only one who's lost comrades. It gets better." 

He was looking down at the floor. "But if it gets better I'm betraying her memory, aren't I? I can still see her lying there, every time I close my eyes. What am I supposed to do? Forget her or not?" 

Bettan set the glass down on the floor, and took his hand. "I'm sure she wouldn't want you to waste your life in mourning." 

"What would you know?" His voice was bitter. "You're an alien. You don't think like us." 

"We're not so different. Only thing is, you're sophisticated," she found herself stumbling a little over the word, "and I'm simple. Been a soldier since I was a girl. I can't wrap things up in fancy words." 

"Don't try, then." 

"Harry, you need to remember you're alive. And you've still got friends." 

She made to put her hand on his arm, but he pushed it away. 

"So that's how it went on Skaro?" he said. "Your best friend dies, throw her away and find another one?" 

"That was all we could do. We'd mourn our casualties, reprocess the body — don't ask — and then get on with the war." 

"Fat lot of good it did you, in the end." 

"Harry." She softened her voice. "I know how you feel. I've lost everyone who was ever close to me. I remember when my little brother died in a gas attack. The first boy I ever kissed went out into no-man's-land and I never saw him again. And so on." 

"That's terrible." 

"And now my city's gone." She put her hand on his arm again; this time, he didn't resist. "Everyone I ever knew. What use am I? A soldier without an army?" 

Hesitantly, Harry patted her hand. "The Doctor won't stick around here, I'm sure. Sooner or later he'll start travelling again." 

"You're not going with him?" 

"Not really my cup of tea." She wasn't sure how it had happened, but he was on the bed beside her. "Not after..." 

"There you are." She moved closer to him. "If I go with the Doctor you mightn't see me again. This could be our only chance." 

His hand was on her shoulder, brushing against her short blonde hair. 

"This is a rotten idea," he murmured. 

"Don't suppose you've got any better ones, have you?" 

For a moment he pulled away, and she wondered whether she'd misjudged his emotional state. Then his eyes met hers for the first time. There was a recognition there, that wherever they were going, it was too late to turn back. 

"None," he said. 

⁂

The Doctor was still standing by Sarah's non-grave, giving the vague impression of a hunched and chilly heron waiting patiently for its prey. When the shadow fell on the ground before him, he didn't look round. 

"Call yourself a Time Lord," he said. "Did you deliberately choose the worst possible moment to intrude, or is it just down to incompetence?" 

"I thought you'd like to know the news as soon as possible," the new arrival replied. The Doctor recognised the voice: the same man who'd brought him to Skaro. And Harry, and Sarah. 

"Well?" he asked. 

"You succeeded, Doctor. The Daleks are gone from the timeline. By our projections, whatever empires might fill the power vacuum, they'll be insignificant in comparison. Quarks, Trods... hardly worth mentioning, really. We calculate that you've saved quadrillions of lives across time and space." 

"Oh, so that makes it all right, then." The Doctor turned to face the Time Lord. "And since when have you been so interested in saving lives? Unless the lives were your own, of course." 

"Doctor—" 

"That's why you sent me to intervene. You were afraid that if the Daleks weren't stopped, they'd come for you, one day. Well, you can sleep easy in your beds now. I hope you're happy." 

The Time Lord fell silent for a while, then cleared his throat. "Regarding your companion..." 

"Sarah? You've no right even to mention her." 

"I was merely going to say: My condolences, Doctor." 

"Condolences," the Doctor repeated, scathingly. "She gave her life to see the Daleks destroyed. Something you've singularly failed to do, I can't help noticing. And now the Daleks are just a footnote in history, who's going to remember the girl who destroyed them?" He raised his voice. "None of this was necessary!" 

There was no answer; the Time Lord had vanished, like smoke on the wind. 

"Or was it?" the Doctor wondered out loud. "If that piece of glass hadn't hit Sarah... would I have done what I did? Would Harry?" 

He considered the likely possibilities. 

"Well, you've got what you wanted," he said. "And no doubt you think it was worth the price. Personally, I rather doubt it." 

With a last look at the neat, unremarkable gravestone that was Sarah's only memorial on Earth, he stalked away.


End file.
